That Same Old Dance
by lilgenious
Summary: Anne discovered that whenever she wanted something, that sometimes she had to play dirty.


_AN: To say that I was pleased when I rediscovered this story in the pile of forgotten entries on AO3 is an understatement. It's like being reconnected with a long lost friend, to be completely honest with you. I am aware that Louis and Anne hated each other and didn't exactly trust one another in the book, but I am sure that there were rare moments of tenderness that were shared between the two in private. This little snippet explores one of those moments._

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To say that His Majesty was angry was an understatement. He stormed into the room, his eyes bright with a fury that Anne of Austria had grown accustomed to over the years of her marriage to him. As a matter of fact, Anne thought in amusement as she watched her husband's approach, his very gait spoke volumes about just how enraged His Majesty was.

She amused herself for awhile longer, watching her husband carefully as he stopped in front of her. His face was screwed up in that notorious scowl that he always reserved for her, his hands were clenched in fists despite the fact that he was trying in vain to keep them loosely at his side and his nose was twitching as he opened his mouth to speak to her.

She repressed the urge to giggle. Laughing at her husband's misfortune when she was the direct result of it would not do her in favours. However, she couldn't help the small smile from tugging at her lips. It was the smile of triumph, even if it was a tiny one that she was trying to hide for a little while- or at least until she knew she was really triumphant in her plans.

Her smile wavered when she noticed that Louis was glowering menacingly at her. However, she smiled widely at him, seemingly taking him by surprise because his face relaxed for the briefest of moments before it coloured with rage when she went back to talking to her friends, completely ignoring him.

"So, Constance, tell me about this young man that has taken up residence at the inn your husband owns."

Constance coloured slightly while giving the king a cursory look. "He is a nice man and very honourable. I think that you will find him to be the perfect French gentleman, Your Majesty."

She looked out of the corner of her eye at her husband. She had found out in her early years of marriage that the man whom she married did not take well to being ignored, and already she could see the warning signs that Louis' temper was about to get the best of him. However, she continued on ignoring him in favour of Constance.

"Is he a proper French gentleman?" Anne asked Constance pointedly. Again she peeked at her husband and noticed that he had tensed up at her question.

Constance's face was turning a bright red at this point. "Oh, he is proper enough. He asked me for an evening with him, and well... I..."

"What did you say?" Anne asked feigning interest and excitement. It seemed that Constance's words had snapped her husband out of a reverie because suddenly he moved forward and pushed Constance aside.

"A moment, if you please!" He snapped at her. "I want a word with my wife. Your petty feminine gossip can wait until I am done speaking to my queen."

He waited until Constance had left the room before turning his attention to her. In his hand, she now saw a crumpled up letter with Cardinal Richelieu's neat handwriting over it.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, waving the crumpled letter in front of her face.

"What is the meaning of what?" asked Anne in wide eyed innocence. "Did something happen?"

Louis looked like he was on the verge of madness as he regarded her. "You sent my First Minister away to a battle front to speak to the Spanish about a non-existent treaty arrangement!"

"Good for him, he needs to learn the difference between being a First Minister to a king and thinking that he holds the power of one," Anne retorted.

"Who gave you the power to send a First Minister away in the first place?"

"The wife of a king!"

"You have no right..."

Anne had enough and she pushed him away from her. "No, he has no right walking around this palace as if he owns it. He seems to think that he owns me and my husband! For God sakes, you are the king of this country not that petty little criminal!"

For a few moments they glared at each other, both breathing hard before Louis finally broke his gaze and returned his attention to the letter in his fist. He seemed to be putting two and two together; his face had relaxed into a thoughtful look, something that strangely left her satisfied.

Finally it seemed to have dawned on him and he looked back at her with a quizzical look in his eyes. "You sent Richelieu away so that we could have a night together, didn't you?"

She set her jaw stubbornly and refused to look at him. However after a few minutes of silence, where she did everything to avoid meeting the eyes of her husband, she nodded in defeat. "I wanted a night alone with my husband and sent away the source that prevented that from happening."

She found her husband eyeing her in amusement. "So you sent him to a battlefield to face the hostilities of the Spanish?"

She smiled despite herself. "My brother doesn't like him and wanted to meet him. I promise that your First Minister is going to return to Paris unharmed in a few weeks."

Louis gave her a look. "A few weeks, my dear wife? You know that won't do at all, I need him back much earlier than that."

She made a face. "Fine. He can return on the condition that he treats me with the respect that I deserve, and," she held up a finger as her husband opened his mouth to say something. "And that I can be alone with my husband whenever I choose regardless of the time, age and distance one has to go to be with one's husband."

Louis relented to his wife with a weary nod, and deeply satisfied; Anne took his arm and allowed herself to be walked out of the room.


End file.
